


I lift him above water, he almost drowns in the waves; My Stiles

by Emaisnialleraf



Series: Derek and Stiles growing together after season 6. [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: After season 6, Angst, Depressed Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Stiles, Heartbreak, I killed someone, M/M, OTP Feels, Post-Season/Series 06, Protective Derek, Sad Stiles, Short Story, Writing doodle, im sorry, not edited, please read the top notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 20:54:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12516360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emaisnialleraf/pseuds/Emaisnialleraf
Summary: Derek isn't gonna let anyone or anything hurt his mate; Stiles is off limits.or"Stiles, there has been an accident. He's gone."





	1. I lift him above water

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore these one-shots and honestly until I hit writers block expect daily posts Wednesday through sunday.
> 
> Once again I do not edit my work because if I read over it before I post it I will change too much and I don't want to do that.  
> This is part of my series and all these stories are in order time wise, but do not need to be read in order because they are random scenes that don't correspond enough to make a specific timeline.
> 
> Please enjoy, leave me feedback!  
> Thank you,  
> Ema.

It was the blue sky. His life was falling apart and the air around him was suffocating him in a way where nothing made sense anymore, but it was the blue sky that anchored him down. The tightness of the anchor felt like a seizure, running from his toes all the way up to his waist, floating through his stomach and up to release from his eyes. Sometimes they flooded over in tears, while other times it was in rage. The rage always went by the quickest, the thoughts morphing into future memories that won’t take place causing the idea to melt his heart into a puddle of stone. It would weigh down too heavy at the bottom of his stomach and cause his breathing to twist and pull until his lungs gave out. Of course there’s a name for it, they say he’s having a “panic attack” and prescribes him time with a therapist, but he knew he didn’t need it. The doctor only met Stiles once before the teen refused to return. Talking it out isn’t going to bring back the dead and downing anti-depressants aren’t going to lessen the burden pushing down on his mind. He was mourning and society has tried so hard to replace it with anything they can get their hands on. 

The world has taken something so simple and manipulated it into a reason to put up a wall in your mind and change everything. The teenager didn’t want to change everything, he wanted to go through it and find a way to move on. 

But he couldn’t move on. 

No, this loss was too great.

 

The footsteps behind him caused a sigh to leave his lips, his arm silently reaching out and waiting for the hand to connect with his own. The bench underneath him was beginning to creak under his weight, seeing how old it was, and the freezing air of Beacon Hills began to cause physical trembles across his skin. He had been forced to wear the scarf, the hat, the hoodie, and the extra socks before leaving the house this morning and thank god he had listened. The last few hours spent at this park have been at the expense of freezing his bones until they were literal ice. 

Regardless, he immediately felt the warmth as the man behind him finally grabbed his hand, gently dragging the hold with him as he walked around to sit next to Stiles. The man had spread his legs, pulling the younger up into his lap and beginning to wrap him up in his arms. 

“They were out of coffee, we can grab one somewhere else. I think the closest place besides the one by home is at least a few miles down the road.”

The teen nodded, laying his head against the chest of his mate and letting himself curl in the embrace. They sat in silence for a little while longer, hands tightly intertwined and legs twisted together carefully as they stared up at the trees. It should be starting to snow soon, if the weatherman was correct seeing as January is already mid-way through. Just five days ago he had been so excited for the occasion, already planning what he wanted to do and where he wanted to go when the ground was covered in snow. He had planned everything. His dad had even taken the days off at work so they could go see that stupid movie that everyone said would suck but they were going anyway because Stiles wanted to see it. He wanted to see it and he would and god why couldn’t they of just seen it earlier?  
One of Derek’s hands rose up to his chest, finding a spot and beginning to rub soft circles through the thick hoodie he had on. The tension was strong but he let his eyes close as tears began to swell in his eyes. 

“You’re alright, baby.”  
Stiles shook his head, trying to burrow his face deeper into the skin of Derek’s neck. The scent of his cologne was enough to calm down the rising panic and he let out a heavy breath almost immediately. His chest felt sore at the heavy breaths he had fought down, lungs struggling to catch their pace but getting into the rhythm anyway and continuing to keep him alive. 

“Do you wanna go home?”  
He shook his head no, biting his bottom lip as it began to tremble against his heads refusal. 

“You can’t sit out here much longer, love. We need to go home.”  
A hand ran through his hair, running the beanie off his head and onto the ground behind the bench. At the loss the air began its assault on his ears, making him sigh once again and nod in Derek’s shoulder. 

 

Derek must have carried him to the camaro, because he didn’t remember walking. He did remember the warmthness of the seat and the silence of the radio. He remembered the short drive, just five minutes long, and standing up to walk toward the elevator. He remembered Derek pushing the button and never letting go of his hand as they made their way into the loft. He remembered finally getting his coffee and taking a sip only to hand it back and shake his head. Without a word Derek had disappeared again, a small clatter in the kitchen sounding before the hands were back and he was laying in his spot against Derek’s chest. The way he began to hum almost brought a smile to Stiles’ lips, but he decided to close his eyes instead and calm immediately at the sound of the soft growls rising in Derek’s chest. He remembered how much he loved those sounds and it just about soothed him to sleep.

Until the door got a knock. 

He flinched, arms around his back tensing up before rising and depositing Stiles to the corner of the couch. 

“Wait here.”

A blanket was curled around his shoulders, feet walking away as the door opened and two more sets of feet walked in. 

Voices spoke silently in the entryway and normally Stiles would have eavesdropped but the idea made him sick. He knew exactly why two officers were here. 

 

They had talked for almost half an hour.

Stiles had shook his head to try and release the pressure building in his lungs but it wouldn’t work and he decided to reach for Derek’s coffee, taking a sip and letting the heat travel down to his stomach. He felt the temperature travel down his throat and let out a heavy breath as he went for another gulp, turning toward the window and watching the sky once again.


	2. he almost drowns in the waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I absolutely adore these one-shots and honestly until I hit writers block expect daily posts Wednesday through sunday.
> 
> Once again I do not edit my work because if I read over it before I post it I will change too much and I don't want to do that.  
> This is part of my series and all these stories are in order time wise, but do not need to be read in order because they are random scenes that don't correspond enough to make a specific timeline.
> 
> Please enjoy, leave me feedback!  
> Thank you,  
> Ema.

It had been another three days since the park, eight days in total since the event that shook Beacon Hills occurred. They were at the loft, him and Derek, and they were waiting for people to arrive so they could head to the cemetery. Derek had helped him dress in black, pausing every couple articles of clothing so that Stiles could break down and Derek could wipe his tears again. He finally got dressed and waited for his boyfriend to do the same before they sat together on the couch and stared at the black TV screen. 

 

Almost half an hour later the door opened, people walking in causing him and his boyfriend's head to turn and notice the newcomers. The alpha nodded his head at the other, giving his gaze also to Malia on his arm and Melissa standing behind them. Her eyes were red, just like Stiles’, and her hands were shaking as they pressed against her chest. She had a tissue but it looked used and worn causing Derek to quickly get up and grab her another one. She thanked him, giving him a hug as Peter entered next, nodding at them all and telling them it was time to go. 

Stiles sat in his normal seat in the car, Scott and Malia in the back as Peter and Melissa agreed to take her car separately. Derek had yet to let go of his hand and they continued the silence of conversation, the soft music filling the space with enough sounds that they were content. 

When arriving, Derek had opened his door, Stiles not fussing about his werewolf speed or his adorable smile, simply just stepping out of the car and waiting for his boyfriend to wrap his arm back around his waist. They walked through the crowd, ignoring the cries and the other officers as they got to the front row and took their seat in front of the giant hole. Stiles laid his head against Derek’s shoulder and stared at the dirt as people began to take their seats. 

He felt emotionless, tears already shed enough the past eight days, and squeezed his mate’s hand quickly, causing a small head turn and kiss to his head. He never thought he would be here at the age of nineteen. He didn’t think of many things this depressing. 

 

The service was too quick. When he had to stand with his rose he immediately felt the anchor return, shaking his head as Derek stood next to him and continued to hold onto his hand. His eyes had begun to burn and his vision blurred but he bit his lip hard and tightened his other hand onto Derek’s poorly ironed pants. No one had rushed him, no one forced him to stand, they waited patiently until he loosened his grip and stood onto his shaky legs. A hand slid around his waist, keeping him calm as they walked up to the hole and forced their gazes up. He couldn’t look down. The memorial was enough to cause nightmares for the rest of his life, and he knew the sight of a half-covered coffin would rip him to shreds. Maybe Derek had sensed this, he waited for the teen to drop his rose before immediately turning and guiding him back to his seat. Stiles thanked him without words, because he wouldn’t have been able to move on his own. He felt the tips of his shoes wrestling with the dirt and sucked in a shaky breath at the battle, begging his own feet to win. 

 

After everyone had stood they walked back through the crowd of people, still ignoring the cries and the officers around them as they got into the parking-lot and Derek opened his door. 

Derek helped him sit down, legs too shaky. 

Derek helped him strap his seatbelt, arms too shaky.

Derek helped him adjust in his seat and get his legs in the car, mind too shaky. 

 

The man shut his door, walking around the front of the car and getting in his own seat, grabbing the other’s already extended hand and looking him straight in the eyes. 

“I love you, Stiles.”  
“I love you too.”

Those were his first words in almost a week. 

They couldn’t of been more true.

 

Getting home was the same. 

Derek helped him out of the car. 

Derek helped him in the elevator as the alpha nodded goodbye to Scott. 

Derek pushed the button and still clutched to his hand. 

Derek helped him inside and sat him on the couch. 

Derek returned with plaid pajama pants and one of his own t-shirts.

Derek stopped every few articles of clothing to let his boyfriend cry before continuing.

Derek pulled him into a hug.

Derek brought him to bed. 

It was all Derek, he kept him strong and he had no idea how the werewolf had done it, but he was beginning to take a little bit of the anchor's weight. Unable to lift his eyes up to match the green in front of him, he simply patted the said man's shoulder and left a small kiss on his cheek. Knowing it wouldn't do much about the situation, he wanted the wolf to know he would be okay soon and the help given was more than enough. He wanted Derek to know that he loved him more than anything and he's glad that he has him to hold on to. Derek needed to know he is overly grateful and more in love than he ever had been before. 

 

That night as Stiles laid silently in bed he strained his ears, hearing the soft sobs coming out of the shower just behind the bathroom door. 

When his boyfriend came back he simply rolled over, facing the man as he got into bed and quickly made himself fit into the arms. He kissed his trembling lips and looked him in the eyes, the eyes wrapped in red and raw to the touch.

“I love you, Derek.”  
“I love you, too.”

 

They were going to be okay.

Maybe not today, maybe not in the next few days, but the two knew they were going to be okay.


End file.
